What We Could Never Be
by xHalosandwings
Summary: She was nothing but a toy to him; a cheap thrill in a hotel bed, and only in her heartbreak does she realise he'll never change. He, on the other hand, had no idea of the effect she'd leave on him. Edge/Tiffany/?


I'm actually really proud of how this one-shot turned out! I haven't wrote one in _ages_, and this idea just came to me, and I had to write it down.  
I really like Tiffany, she's definitely growing on me, and you can never go wrong with a bit of Edge and Christian.  
Please leave a **review** and tell me what you think!  
Hope you enjoy!  
**WARNING: Contains sexual conversation, and well... sex. :P**

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**WHAT WE COULD NEVER BE**

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**- JAY -**

It was their dirty little secret. Only a select few knew about it; Adam's best guys and Tiffany's closest girlfriends she couldn't hide it from. No-one else needed to know, because it was a real relationship.

The whole thing was purely physical.

Things had started when she became the ECW general manager – I teased Adam that he had a thing for women in power. After one of the tapings, they got talking and went out for a drink. After a couple of shots, the pair ended up going at it in an alleyway behind the bar. From then on, they got into a routine; wrestling, alcohol then sex. Neither one stayed the night in the other's hotel room; it was an unwritten rule they both abided by.

It wasn't glamorous, but it was certainly enjoyable. They both got what they wanted out of it.

At least, for a little while.

I know what you're thinking; how do I know all this?

**- TIFFANY –**

"Hey, a couple of us are going out after the show. Do you wanna come?"

I turned around and noticed that Mickie James was stood in the doorway of the divas locker room. Despite the fact we'd be working together for a few months now, I'd barely spoken to Mickie before. Come to think of it, besides Savannah, I barely spoke to any of the Smackdown divas. I wasn't rude, not in the slightest; I just didn't have a lot in common with any of them.

There was Beth Phoenix, but she was a bit of a loner. Natalya only ever spoke to DH Smith and Tyson Kidd, and Michelle McCool and Layla were like two immature school girls that sat in the corner of catering, whispering about the other wrestlers. Mickie, on the other hand, seemed pretty sweet; we'd just never really got talking.

"I..." I had plans, but didn't want to sound rude. "I don't know." I shrugged weakly, and began looking through my bag for clothes so I could change out of my wrestling gear. "I might be seeing someone."

Mickie nodded, sitting herself down on one of the benches, and going through her own bag, pulling out a water bottle. "You're dating Drew McIntyre, right?" She loosened the cap and began drinking.

"Yeah...Drew." I felt my cheeks burning, so I turned my back to Mickie to use the hairdryer on the other side of the room. I'd been on a couple of dates with Drew, and he was a nice guy, but something was missing. He could be funny, and intelligent, but he just wasn't...Adam.

"You guys must be pretty serious," Mickie called over the loud buzz of the hairdryer. To be honest, she didn't seem that interested in me, it seemed like she was talking just to keep the mood up.

"Mmm." I was happy to talk to Mickie, just not about Drew. He wasn't the one I was interested in.

"Well, have fun tonight." I turned around to see Mickie pick up her gym bag and sling it over her shoulder, before leaving the locker room. I felt guilty for turning Mickie down, I honestly did, but at that moment, I had more important things on my mind.

I dug into my own bag, and pulled out a short black dress, and a pair of black heels. I fixed my make-up in one of the large mirrors, and used the hairdryer to blast my hair one last time. I liked to make an effort before my rendezvous with Adam. I remembered the words he once said to me; 'there's nothing worse than a sloppy looking chick.'

"Someone got a hot date?" Layla came into the locker room, and gathered up her belongings, before making her way out again. I knew Layla's comment was snide, but I was too happy in that moment to even care.

**- ADAM –**

"Oh, Adam," I could hear Michelle moaning under her breath, as I managed to give her more satisfaction from three minutes of kissing than she'd had everytime she'd been intimate with Mark Callaway.

Sure, Michelle was a little different to the girls I would usually go for – I prefer one with a little more meat on her bones – but I could tell she wanted it. The way she looked at me across catering with her normally unimpressed eyes gleaming. She wanted me, and who was I to blame her? Her boyfriend was out with an injury, and he obviously wasn't giving her what she wanted, so she chose a man who could get the job done. She's a smart girl.

Over the years, I'd learnt that pleasing a woman was like riding a bike; once you learnt, you never forgot. And the more you did it, the better you got. Now I'm not one to brag – who I'm I kidding? I'm Edge, for fucks sake! – but I've rode a lot of bikes over the years. Cutting out all the shit metaphors, I loved women. Women of all shapes and sizes, of all colours and backgrounds... you name it, I'd fuck it. Well, except ugly chicks. Or the _really_ fat ones.

What can I say? I wasn't looking for my perfect woman, because everything in life should be in plural. One beer or two beers? One world title reign or two world title reigns? One woman or two women? Plural wins everytime. The girls I dated knew my reputation, and that I've never going to be the guy in the suburban house with the fresh-faced kids. That may work for some, but it just wasn't me. As you can see, I'm a thoughtful guy; my views on relationships and woman may not have been conventional, but they made for some very good times.

"Oh, Adam," Dear God, this girl was easy to please. I'd have expected to have worked a little harder; the women's champ was such a tough cookie in the ring; who'd have known she was as soft as a marshmallow in the bedroom... or locker room, to be exact.

I quickly discarded both our clothes, and put on one very important – safe sex is important – and began the sex side of things. About a six out of ten; it was alright, but nothing earth shattering. Then again, I wasn't expecting much originality out of the girl that called Mickie James 'Piggy James'. I looked down at my watch; I had a good 5 minutes before Jay stopped guarding the door for me, and about twenty minutes until I was scheduled for a little one-on-one with Tiffany.

Ah, Tiffany. Oddly enough, she'd become one of my favourite 'partners'. She was up for a good time, and quite frankly, she'd given me some of the best blow jobs I'd ever had. Plus, she knew the rules; she drank like a trooper, the small talk was light-hearted and she left straight after sex. She was the perfect woman for me.

Until Tiffany, however, I'd put up with Michelle.

**- TIFFANY – **

As I walked past the men's locker room, I noticed a couple of things were odd. Firstly, there was a 'Closed' sign on the door, and secondly, Jay Reso was sat on a chair outside, reading.

"What're you reading?" I asked, as Jay lifted his eyes from the page of his book with a smile on his face. You could talk about how good looking he was, but that didn't do Jay Reso justice.

Jay held up the book, flashing me the cover. "Looming Destruction." At the time, I had no idea how ironic that title was. "It's pretty boring actually. I thought 'Hey, a book about war; sounds good', but it's pretty shocking."

I'd always liked Jay Reso. If I hadn't have been so infatuated by Adam, I'd probably have been obsessing over Jay. We first met when I got the ECW general manager job, and when the other douche bags in the locker room were making snide comments, he had been nothing but supportive. In the wrestling industry, you needed all the back-up you could get, and there was no better back-up than Jay. He even knew about my relationship with Adam, and he never held that against me.

He was witty, and all it took was a little remark from him to make me cry with laughter. And he was a lot smarter than most wrestlers; he liked things like politics, and books, and history, and documentaries. He taught me a lot, and a lot of it didn't even concern wrestling.

"Any reason you're sat outside?" I asked curiously, sitting down on the chair next to him. I often felt like an inquisitive child around Jay, because he seemed so much wiser than me. There was a twelve year age-gap between us, but it didn't stop our friendship.

"I'm waiting for Chris, and I told him I'd meet him in the men's locker room, but-" He signalled at the sign on the door. "-that's not exactly possibly."

We chatted for a little while. I liked talking to Jay; he made me feel like a person of importance, unless most of the superstars that looked at me like a piece of meat. Maybe divas were sexy, smart and powerful to the fans, but to the other guys, we were nothing but Barbie dolls. It used to bother me, but it doesn't anymore. Guys like Jay didn't treat you like that, though. They made you feel like you were equal, and for that, Jay will always hold a place in my heart.

Everything was going fine, until Chris Irvine – or Jericho, as he's better known to the fans – walked straight past us, acknowledging Jay with a nod, with no signal that they were meeting each other.

Something inside me at that moment clicked. Jay and Adam were best friends, and I knew that no matter how dirty, or how sordid Adam could be, Jay would always help him out. And that included guarding the locker room door; he'd even done it for us before.

"Don't go in there, Tiff." I felt Jay grab my arm in a way that was assertive, but not possessive. I looked down at his hand, and watched it fall back to his side. "You're only going to get hurt if you see what goes on in there." I knew that, of course I did, but I knew if I didn't go in there, I'd regret it for the rest of my life.

So I opened the door, and felt my heart sink to my feet.

They were lying on the bench, and I could see the back of Adam, on top of Michelle, as they rocked back and forth. When I was a teenager, I'd always wondered how women hadn't been crushed when men went on top, and despite the fact I knew that wasn't the case, if any woman were to be crushed, it was Michelle 'Skin and Bones' McCool. It wasn't an attractive thing to look at; it made me feel like I was on the set of some low-budget porn movie, and if I yelled 'Cut!' then the cast would just keep going.

It wasn't long before Adam turned around, with a blank expression on his face. If he felt guilty, he certainly wasn't showing it. I didn't get to examine his face anymore, as I stormed out of the room, my heart breaking inside me.

"Tiff, wait up!" Jay chased down the corridor after me, and managed to catch me up. He laced his fingers around my wrist, and pulled me in so we were face-to-face. It was closer than I'd ever been to Jay; our figures were pressed together, and his grip on my was strong enough that I couldn't back away.

I wasn't entirely sure what came over me at that moment, or if Jay felt the same way, but I leaned in, and kissed him. I was surprised at his lack of resistance. I let my tongue slip into his mouth with ease, and he responded my cupping my face in his hands and deepening the kiss.

A moment later, he pulled away. "Tiff...I can't. You're upset, and I'd be taking advantage-" I felt even more crushed than before; two rejections in the space of about a minute? That had to be a record.

"You...but..." I wasn't even saying anything. I was just producing random words. It was humiliating. It was like I was a love-struck teenager. All I could do was sprint back towards the women's locker room, and find solace in the silence of the room.

I knew I shouldn't have been, but I was crushed. Adam and I were never in a relationship, and I knew that he was seeing other girls, but deep down, a part of me wanted to believe I was important to him and that somewhere in that black heart of his, I was appreciated. He couldn't be that heartless, could he?

My sadness soon turned to anger, as I smashed my fist against one of the lockers, however the sadness returned, as I slid down the locker and found myself sat on the floor, my chin resting on my knees, and my tears bouncing onto the tiled floor beneath me. This was what heartbreak felt like? It sucked. It really, really sucked.

"Tiffany?" Slowly, the locker room door opened, and I was no longer alone. Mickie was cautiously stood in the doorway. For such a tough girl, she looked terrified of what I might do. "Can I come in?"

"It's the divas locker room." I said with a smile.

She came and sat down next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder; it made me feel like a child again, despite the fact Mickie wasn't that much older than me. "Jay sent me in here; he told me what happened."

"Thanks, Jay." I muttered sarcastically.

"We've all been there with Adam," Mickie allowed me to rest my head against her shoulder, running her fingers through my hair. "Even me; you shouldn't be ashamed of what you did."

"I'm ashamed of ever thinking that a guy like Adam Copeland was capable of feelings." I responded, wiping my eyes. "God, am I _that_ naive?"

"No," Mickie said after a little while. "No, you're not. You're a beautiful girl, and you'll get over what happened."

And funnily enough, I did.

**- ADAM – **

It doesn't matter how many years have passed since that locker room incident, because for all I know, it could've been ten, could even have been twenty. All I know is that I retired from wrestling a long time ago. Despite this, I've never forgot the look on Tiffany's face that day, and the way she looked at me like her world had fallen apart. Her bottom lip shook, and her big brown eyes filled with tears, and it's like someone working in my brain took a photo of it, and waves it in front of me everytime I close my eyes.

In the weeks following the incident, she'd look at me very differently. She was no longer the sexual, yet childlike Tiffany I'd taken to bed so many times before; she'd grown up. She was over a decade younger than me, yet when she looked at me, I saw pity in her eyes. She felt sorry for me, but she felt nothing but happiness for herself. My behaviour hasn't changed, but neither before Tiffany, nor since Tiffany, has a woman looked at me in that way.

I still have to see her a lot; I may be retired from wrestling, but she's married to my best friend. I don't resent her, or Jay, because they're both happy. Wherever I go, she's always there; Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year, we're forced together. We talk politely, and we laugh at each other's jokes, but the tension is always going to be there. I broke her heart, and I can't take that back.

Sometimes, I wonder whether I missed out on being with this wonderful girl. We're very similar; we've both got houses in America and Canada, we're both retired yet accomplished wrestlers, and we both care about Jay Reso a lot, but there's one big difference. She's a mom to three kids, and I'm still attempting to live the same lifestyle I did all those years ago.

I sometimes think, 'You missed out, Adam. Those could've been your kids', but then I remember, I don't want kids. All I want is her.

And she's the one girl I can no longer have.

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